


Sincerely

by lookslikehecansurf



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: (kind of - all except ash are graduating), Alternate Universe - High School, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Pen Pals, Post-Break Up, just fluff tbh, photographer!ashton
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 06:23:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12006921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookslikehecansurf/pseuds/lookslikehecansurf
Summary: When a letter to an ex ends up in your mailbox and your best friend has no concept of privacy, you're in for a ride. Just make sure you've got enough post stamps.Or, Ashton is not over Bryana, Michael is a little shit, Luke did not sign up for this and Calum is making friends instead of studying for graduation exams





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thesoulsailor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesoulsailor/gifts).



_“Dear Bryana,_

_you forgot this when you were leaving. I could have called, I know, but I was afraid you wouldn’t pick up. I’m sure you would want this back; I hope it brings you everything you wish for._

_Love,_

_Ashton.”_

 

Calum regretted opening the letter the moment he read the first sentence. He should not have opened the package, but he let his curiosity and his nosey best friend Michael convince him otherwise. Round, bold letters written in light blue ink were not meant for Calum, and he felt like he had meddled with something very personal without any right.

Michael, the aforementioned nosey friend, snatched the note out of Calum’s fingers and his eyes ran along the short line of text. He raised a spikey-haired head and his gaze met Calum’s eyes.

“What’s in the bag?” Michael asked as he nodded towards the small parcel the note fell out of that was still in Calum’s hands. Calum looked inside and took out a small bracelet woven out of worn leather bands with silver lucky charms hanging from it.

“What am I even going to do with this?” Calum asked. “We should have left it untouched, Mike.”

Michael’s eyes rounded.

“Are you kidding? I know exactly what we should do.” He smiled, and Calum knew that smile: all of their greatest plans and adventures began with one, so he couldn’t help but match it with his own grin.

“What are you thinking?”

 

\--

 

_“Hi, Ashton,_

_you don’t know who I am and you really don’t need to. The thing is, I got your letter by mistake, because the girl you wrote to doesn’t live here anymore. I’ve asked the neighbours, and they don’t know where she moved, I thought I’d let you know._

_I’m returning the bracelet with this letter, hopefully you can get it to her. I’m sorry, by the way, for opening and reading your letter, I know that was private. I was just trying to figure out what to do with it. I guess that’s all._

_Best regards,_

_Calum H.”_

 

Ashton stared at the piece of paper in his hand, eyes tracing firm black angled letters. He half expected his letter to Bryana to go to a wrong address, but he didn’t think that whoever got it by mistake would bother writing back. This Calum H. seemed like a really nice person.

Ashton took out the bracelet, carefully wrapped in bubble wrap as if it could break. Bryana loved that thing and forgot it at his place by accident; Ashton, for some reason, couldn’t rest until he returned it to her. Somehow, it seemed less important now, the problem of delivering his ex’s lucky bracelet back to her was postponed by the letter from a person that Ashton didn’t even know, but was already liking.

 

\--

 

_“Dear Calum H.,_

_Thank you very much for getting back to me. I don’t blame you for opening the letter, I am glad that you did. I’m going to try and get it to its destination, but I just thought I’d let you know that I’m very grateful and you don’t need to worry._

_I hope you’re having a good day,_

_Best regards,_

_Ashton.”_

 

Calum didn’t know why he wanted to write back. He certainly didn’t expect Ashton to. But it felt nice, seeing your name on the envelope, feeling the thrill of opening a message from someone you have never met, without any idea what was inside. Calum wanted to feel it again.

Calum told Michael about the way he felt, like he told him everything, knowing that his best friend will not laugh at him, and Michael just nodded and stared at Calum for a really long time before finally speaking.

“I think you need to just do it. If you want to actually talk to him, do it. The worst he could do is say no.”

“I think the worst is actually not replying at all,” Calum corrected, furrowing his brows because he didn’t want to even think about such an outcome.

“Nah, man,” Michael smiled. “He sound insanely polite. I think he’ll tell you if he doesn’t want to talk. You just gotta try.”

 

\--

 

_“Hi, Ashton,_

_It’s Calum again. I don’t really have a reason to write, but I think you’re a nice person and I’d like to keep talking to you. I know, you’re probably going through a lot right now and might not want to do this. I can understand that, just let me know you’re not up for it. But just in case you feel like you need a friend, or someone to talk to who won’t judge you, you can always write to me. I’ll be glad if that’s the case, but if not, then I really wish you all the best and good luck._

_Best regards,_

_Calum H.”_

 

Ashton raised his head, eyes wandering away from the paper, and found himself looking at his own smiling reflection in his hallway mirror. So what if he decided to open his mail right by the front door? Ashton just liked reading. That’s it. Couldn’t be bothered to walk back to the living room. You know how that is.

Ashton sighed, watching his own smile disappear. He couldn’t lie to himself - this letter was simultaneously a cause for sadness and happiness. Calum gave Ashton an option of saying no, correctly guessing that Ashton was a little wary about delving into a new friendship or any sort of ship now, but what he didn’t know was that Ashton felt two things at once: fear of getting hurt again and the thrill of getting to know a new person; the possibility to appear annoying and selfish and the need to be able to talk his heart out. Ashton was confused, because he wanted to write back, and at the same time he didn’t. Ashton had a million questions piling in his head that he wanted to ask Calum, and he couldn’t wait to tell Calum about himself. But he didn’t want to mess it up, scare Calum away with his broken heart.

Well, he’d just have to be really careful.

 

_“Dear Calum,_

_I hope that it’s okay for me to just call you by your name. I couldn’t say no to your offer to continue this conversation thing, because your letters make my days brighter. I don’t feel that way about many things, and I’m not saying that to appear cool and distanced. It’s the truth, and I really wish it was different, but I’m hoping these letters will help._

_Anyway, tell me something about your life? I know from your address that you’re from Sydney, and I’m in Melbourne, so tell me about what’s going on over there._

_I suppose I should tell you about me. My name’s Ashton Irwin, as you already know, but people often call me just Ash. I’m 19 and I work as a photographer. I really want to have my own exposition or a gallery or something, but that’s just dreams. For now I just take pictures for a biography magazine, good thing I like biographies. My other passion is music, and I wish I could write it or at least play an instrument but I suck. My hands aren’t made for playing guitar, haha. What kind of music do you like? Can you play any instruments? If yes, you’re awesome, even if you say you play the triangle. :)_

_As you know, I’ve recently got out of a relationship, and I don’t want to make you into a shoulder to cry on, but just gonna let you know a few things. We’ve been together for over a year, and it’s been a bit of a here and there because she’s a model and she was never in the same place for longer than a couple of weeks. That’s why I wasn’t surprised my letter didn’t get to her, and partly why it didn’t work out between us. I’m the type of person to look for something more permanent and stable._

_I’ve been talking about myself for way too long, I’m sorry. Tell me more about your life, I can’t wait to read about it._

_Best regards,_

_Ashton.”_

 

\--

 

Calum didn’t let Michael read that one, and his best friend tried to make an offended face but his eyes shone knowingly, admitting what Calum was already thinking: this pen-pal thing with Ashton was growing to become something private and new. Calum never had anything private before, between a sister that knew him inside out since birth and Michael who was his best friend since forever, and it felt nice to have something to himself for once.

 

_“Dear Ashton,_

_Of course you can call me Calum. My best friend calls me Cal sometimes so that’s cool too, I guess. You wanted to know about me, so I’m just gonna do this right away since I’ve already started, kind of._

_I’m Calum, I’m 17 years old and I’m graduating school in a month which is terrifying. We've been living in Sydney my whole life, but moved to this house a month back or so. I’ve got a normal family, mum, dad and my older sister Mali. She’s a singer, with a record deal and everything, and I wish I could do that for a living too, except I suck on my own. I guess my guitar skills are okay, but as Mali says I’m a shit singer. So I’m going to college on a football scholarship, since I don’t suck at that._

_Oh yeah, my best friend’s name is Michael and he’s much cooler than me; I think you’d like him. He’d be a good person to write a biography article about. He’s loud and funny and has mad guitar skills, he dyes his hair crazy colors and he’s very unapologetic about the way he is. That’s very punk rock. Also, he’s fairly attractive which would make him a good model for you.”_

 

Calum had to stop writing a reply for a while because it was almost like Michael sensed Calum was writing about him and decided to call.

“Hey, Hood,” he greeted with a laugh. Calum rolled his eyes, even if Michael couldn’t see. “Whatcha doing?”

“Writing,” Calum answered reluctantly.

“New song?”

“No,” Calum said, averting his eyes as if Michael could see him. He never lied to his best friend.

“Ooh,” Michael let out a whistle. “Ashton?”

“Mhm,” Calum for some reason struggled to say something more coherent.

“Well, tell him I said hi,” Michael said and immediately continued, “I’ve seen this AMAZING new guitar in the music store, it’s really cool. Oh God, I’m gonna see it in my dreams.”

“Let me guess, it’s expensive?” Calum said, knowing Michael found a new guitar to pine over at least twice a month.

“Not really,” Michael cleared his throat. “Still can’t afford it, though.”

“Ask your parents to get it for you,” Calum suggested. “Your birthday is like, two weeks away.”

“Dude!” Michael’s voice was afire as the realization hit him. “That’s genius!”

“Thank me later,” Calum couldn’t help but giggle as Michael’s excitement was contagious.

“I owe you one, Cal,” he said. “Alright, I won’t keep you from your _writing_ ,” Calum couldn’t see him but could picture the eyebrow wiggle that highlighted the last word. With an exasperated sigh Calum hung up.

He sat still for a moment, shaking his head with a smile at his dumbass best friend. He wished he could be as good to Ashton as Michael was to him.

 

_“Michael’s the one who made me open that letter of yours in the first place. He says hi, by the way. I think he’s jealous :)_

_There’s not much to my life at the moment, but if there’s anything you want to know just ask, I don’t mind sharing. As for what you told me about you… I think it’s really awesome how you’re a photographer and you’re living your dream. I would love to see some of your work, if you want to share. About your relationship… I’m sorry it didn’t work out. I know you don’t want to hear stuff like “life goes on” and “there’s plenty of fish in the sea”. I have never been with anybody so I don’t know what you’re feeling but I wouldn’t want to hear this. So I guess what I’m trying to say is, it’s okay if you’re hurt and upset. It’ll go away in its own time. Just let life flow and do what you do best, capture moments of it as it goes by. Your job can be your getaway._

_This is all I’ve got to say for now. Hope this helps in any way, and I can’t wait to hear from you again. Tell me about your family? If you want?_

_P.S. “Best regards” is so goddamn official it’s like I’m emailing a teacher. Got a better way to sign this off?_

_I don’t know what to write here,_

_Calum H.”_

 

\--

 

Ashton had a bad day at work, to put it mildly.

His boss kept giving smartass remarks directed at his pictures for the latest magazine issue and ended up telling Ashton to reshoot the whole thing. In his own time, with his own money. Ashton would have to rent a studio, bring equipment, book time with the person they had interviewed and shoot. Ashton had no idea when he’d be doing all that. His free time was limited already.

When he got home and was walking up the stairs to his small lofty looking apartment, he made a stop near the mailboxes. Delighted to see his contained a letter, he hurried to take it out and ran the remaining stairs up to his flat, kicked the door shut behind him and fell on the couch nearest to him, clutching the letter in his hands.

Fifteen minutes later, when he was done re-reading Calum’s clumsy words for the billionth time, he sat up straight and blinked something suspiciously resembling tears out of his eyes. Ashton found clean sheets of paper and grabbed a pen.

No matter how short on time he was, Calum was a priority.

 

_“Dear Calum,_

_I’m very glad to hear from you so soon. It was cool to know more about your life, your friend Michael sounds like a very interesting person, I would love to take pictures of him. What colors has he dyed his hair? I hope you’ve got his hair-dye journey photographed because this sounds like it has to be documented. :)_

_You and me both are jealous of your sister’s job! Have I heard her music? What type of music does she write? Does she perform live? Oh my god, tell me everything!_

_Sure, I can send you some of the pictures that I took. I’ll try to include different types of photos, tell me which ones you like more._

_About my family. Well, I’ve got my mum, and there’s my little sister Lauren and my little brother Harry. Lauren is in year 9 and Harry is in year 7 of school, so they still live at home. They’re cool guys, I wish I could see more of them. I can’t because of work, it’s not as much fun a it seems. More deadlines, projects and bosses demanding stuff from you. But I’ve only noticed that recently, around the time your first letter arrived. You said work can be my getaway but I’d be lying if I said it’s my job; no, talking to you is. I don’t mean it in a creepy way or anything, but it’s like you said, I just need a friend. I don’t have many of those, my old school friends are very distant now cause we grew apart. My relationship didn’t work out, and I don’t see my colleagues often enough to make friend with them. So I’m just really glad I got you to talk to and I want to let you know you can talk to me too. If you have anything you want to talk about, seriously, I’m there. I’ll even write my phone number for you in case writing isn’t an option. (Also, I’m scared something will happen and we will lose contact so I want to have a backup.)_

_Wow, this turned into a rant, I’m sorry. I hope you’re having a good day, and I’m looking forward to your next letter._

_You’re right, “best regards” is awkward as fuck. Sorry. “Yours respectfully?” :D_

_Sincerely,_

_Ashton.”_


	2. Chapter 2

Mali was getting suspicious, and it was a bad sign.

“Hey, Cal?” she called out from the kitchen once Calum set foot on the last stairway step on a Sunday morning. Calum moved towards her voice and saw her sitting in a chair in a giant hoodie, with her long bleached hair pulled up in a knot. Her recording sessions usually ended really late and she slept for the better part of most mornings. 

“Yeah?”

“What is it with you and these letters lately?” 

Calum made a face. He liked having Ashton to himself. He was okay with Michael knowing because he had to gush about Ashton’s photographs to  _ somebody _ , but he didn’t really want to be telling Mali the whole story. 

“They’re just letters,” he mumbled and went to pour himself a glass of orange juice to busy himself with something. 

“Who even writes letters these days?” Mali wondered into space. Her voice was groggy in the morning, but it wasn’t mocking, it was thoughtful. “Don’t you know about texting, or something?”

“It’s cooler this way,” Calum said when he realized she wasn’t going to prod and poke fun at him. When his sister gave him a look, he continued. “Well, I just don’t trust the Internet or my phone to save that conversation. You can lose a phone, you can delete a facebook page. A letter stays with you. And… it’s just nice, spending time actually writing out words and knowing somebody else will be doing that too. Waiting for the reply is the best part.”

“Okay,” Mali smiled. “I knew you were a romantic, with your guitar covers of pop songs and your journal full of scribbles, but didn’t know you were that much of one.” 

Calum just huffed, downed his glass of juice and exited the room. 

It was a Sunday, a perfect day for sitting down and taking time to reply to Ashton’s wonderful letter, if only Calum wasn’t a senior about to graduate. He had football practice with his team in an hour, and he promised to stop at Michael’s house on his way back because Michael’s parents were out of town again and he had the house to himself. 

Calum sighed, his gaze sweeping the bedroom and stopping at the pictures pinned above his bed. It was a messy mix: his photos with Mali and his parents, pictures from his years and years on the football team, small posters of the players he liked and album covers he took out of their CD cases (Michael still said that it was a blasphemy each time he did it to a new album he bought). Now the wall collage had a new addition: glossy shots that Ashton had sent him. Calum was still blown away as much as he had been when he took them out of the envelope, because the photographs were beautiful, colorful and alive. Now they adorned his wall, splashes of light among the dark album covers and bleak posters. 

Calum looked down on the letter that lay on the side of the desk, and the ten-digit phone number at the bottom of the page stood out like a sore thumb. If he just gathered a bit of courage and called… or at least they could text. Calum could do that on his way to practice, could text him at Michael’s house while his best friend set up his Xbox. 

But he wouldn’t do that. Letters were special, wasn’t that what he just told Mali? 

So Calum went to his practice, and then to Michael’s, and he was back home only around midnight because they got carried away playing FIFA, and he got a scolding from his mum but she didn’t really mean it because she knew how he and Michael were. 

Calum had an entire day full of classes, followed by another team practice and a rehearsal for their graduation ceremony, and when he got back to his room it was like Ashton’s photos stared at him with disapproval. And Calum wanted to sit down and write a good reply, but he didn’t have any energy left. Again, he stared at the phone number for good five minutes before taking off his clothes and falling into bed. 

Days passed, and Calum’s schedule only got busier. Exam preparations and studying was added to team practice and rehearsals and time wtih Michael, who glanced at Calum weirdly at times but said nothing. 

And every night Calum would go to sleep with the image of the letter burning behind his eyelids. Calum’s mother came in once to sweep off the dust, but saw the letter and didn’t touch anything on the desk; Mali must have told her. One picture fell off the wall during the night and Calum placed it on the side of the desk to keep it from crumpling, and it stayed there for days because he didn’t have time to put it back up. 

The desk was slowly turning into a shrine to Ashton and maybe, to Calum’s lack of time.  And Calum hated it. 

So he took his journal to school and composed endless drafts of the letter on the pages, starting over again and again. He even wrote notes on his phone when he couldnt get a hold of the journal. He tried what must be a million of different ways to tell Ashton how much he wanted to talk to him and see more of his photos and tell him about his little, boring life, and each time, the letter grew heavier and heavier with apologies for the late reply. Calum must have had at least twenty different versions of the same letter. 

He didn’t send a single one.

 

\--

 

Ashton was getting worried.

Calum’s letters took no more than 4 days to get to Ashton. It had been a week, and Ashton didn’t get a word from … his friend? Was Calum a friend to him after a few back and forth scribbles? 

Ashton wanted to slap himself across the face. Calum went out of his way to get the damn bracelet back to Ashton (which, okay, was just him being a nice person), but he kept talking to Ashton after that and was nothing but nice and considerate and just… there for him. And Ashton might have been pondering over what took Calum so long (“Did he hate the pictures? Did I say something wrong? Was the phone number too much?”) but he had to admit: Calum was his friend. 

And since Ashton was admitting stuff to himself, he might as well confess that he missed Calum. 

This was ridiculous, but true. Yes, Ashton had no idea what Calum even looked like, had never heard his voice and had come to know him just two weeks ago. But this boy with a steady, firm handwriting that carried his words of support had come to mean something to Ashton. Something that he’d hate to have taken away. 

But Calum wasn’t answering. 

Ashton delved into his work, reshooting that one session his boss requested, spent evenings editing his photos until he collapsed from exhaustion, barely remembering to take off his glasses so he wouldn’t crush them in his sleep.

The thoughts didn’t go away. 

Ashton knew in his brain that Calum was a high school student, probably busy with graduation and exams and all that. But in his heart, he didn’t want to hear that. He wanted Calum to make time for him, to squeeze ten minutes of free time in his day to write a reply, and with each passing day this heavy bubble of longing, hurt and self-doubt weighed more and more. 

Ashton called his mother. 

Anne was working in the mornings, so Ashton picked out a time for his call to be late in the afternoon when she’d be home for sure, and dialled her number.

“Hey, baby,” Anne replied after the second ring, smile obvious in her voice. “How are you doing?”

“Hey Mum,” Ashton said and smiled: despite everything, he was glad to hear from her. “You’re home?”

“Well, in the garden, to be precise,” Anne chuckled. She did not sense Ashton trying to steer away from the question about his wellbeing. “Trying to do something about these bloody lillies.”

“Don’t tell me you think about relocating them again?” She couldn’t pick a place for a bunch of lillies for what must be two months now. Ashton thought it was hilarious. 

“Noooo,” Ashton’s mother said merrily. “They’re looking a bit sick, is all.” She paused. “But you didn’t call me so I could rant about my lillies. Tell me how you’re doing, son.”

“I’m… I don’t know,” Ashton admitted, dropping his pretence. He plopped in his favorite leather chair and rubbed his eyes under the glasses. The setting sun was shining in his face, and it was painful to open them, but the room was flooded with warm orange light he could see even with his eyes closed, and Ashton, as always, wished he could take pictures of somebody in this sort of lighting. 

“You miss her?” Anne asked quietly, understandingly. Ashton’s father left when Harry was just three and Ashton himself was nine. And even though their mother never spoke about him, it was clear she still loved him. 

“I… sometimes,” Ashton said. He did miss Bryana’s silver laugh and her strands of blonde hair that she’d always wear down, and her cooking, and her smile - but somehow, inexplicably, he missed Calum even more without knowing all of these things about him. 

And it wasn’t his ex that he wanted to take pictures of. It was Calum.

“But?” Anne knew it was coming just because she was a mother, and Ashton gave in. 

“I kind of miss somebody else.” 

Anne waited, not rushing him. Ashton shut his eyes tighter, trying to imagine what Calum looks like. How he spoke. How he walked. How he’d react to a camera. Ashton would ask him, but Calum didn’t reply to the last letter anyway.

“I’ve been.. writing to this guy,” Ashton started. It sounded ridiculous, like he made it up, but he knew his mum would believe him. “These sort of notes, letters, whatever. For about two weeks. He’s really special, and kind, and he plays football and he sings… And he’s been very nice to me.”

“You said you miss him?”

Ashton’s eyes flew open, blinded by the sunset. Anne saying this made it real. 

“He didn’t reply to my last letter,” Ashton admitted. “And gosh, I sound like Lauren with her teenage crushes not texting her back, but that’s just it. I miss him.” A horrific thought came to his mind, and he had to remind himself to breathe to ask Anne a question. “Mum, you don’t think I’m using him, right? He’s not a rebound?”

“Oh, baby,” Anne said softly. “You’re not capable of using anybody. You’re a kind, open soul that I am proud to have taken part in creating.” Ashton bit his lip to hide a smile that crept upon him against his will. “And if he was just a rebound you wouldn’t care about him. The way you described him… it sounds like you do. He’ll write you back. If he’s as nice to you as you say, he will, just give him time. And don’t overthink it. I know you, Ash. Don’t do that,” Anne finished with a quiet sigh. “I have to go and take the vegetables out of the oven. It was good to hear your voice.”

“Yeah, same,” Ashton got up and walked to the window, looking out at the roofs and streets below him. “I’ll call you soon, okay? Love you.”

Anne said her goodbyes, and Ashton threw the phone back on the chair he just stood up from. He pressed his forehead to the glass, allowing himself to think about the new project he’d been offered to take part in, about the new issue of their magazine hitting the shelves tomorrow and about his bills being long overdue; anything but Calum. He told his mum he’d give him time, he’d be an adult about it and just wait. 

A ringtone cut through the silence, making Ashton open his eyes again. The generic music suggested it was an unknown number, but God knows Ashton had those often: new clients and magazine editors and studio owners and a whole lot of other people knew his number. Ashton was even glad that he’d maybe have a new task, something to work on if it was indeed work-related. 

“Hello?” he picked up the phone, but nobody replied even though he could hear their silent breathing. This was weird. One would think that if you’re calling somebody, you’re the one who’s doing the talking. After all, there must be a reason you called. 

“Hello, it’s Ashton. I can't hear you,” Ashton said, getting frustrated a little. 

This time, there was a reply. A voice, boyish but deep and soft and lisping just a little bit, called his name. 

“Ashton, hi. It’s, uh, it’s me. Calum.”


End file.
